What if This Storm Ends?
by desrm
Summary: His wife had lied to him, sending him into a spiral of grieving the loss of his family. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as Emma drives across town and contemplates marrying another man, he knows he's mourning the loss of someone else too. Will/Emma.
1. Make it Without You

**Hello, again! This is my first Will and Emma attempt at multi-chapters! I've always wondered what would have happened if things had gone a little differently in the episode **_**Vitamin D…**_** basically, this is my version of what could have happened from when Ken proposed to Emma and onward! Enjoy!**

Emma feels her heart pulsing in her throat, its rhythm thunderous. Her erratic breaths become shallow and every word spoken is a numbing blow to her ears. Dizziness begins to hit her, quickly pulling her into a vertigo.

Ken Tenaka is down on one knee in front of her, holding out a simple engagement ring. It's a lifetime promise that her entire body is calling out to refuse. Her mouth is agape, the stalk of celery she had been chewing on unceremoniously falls to the floor. Admittedly, she had knowingly gotten herself into their relationship, but _this_ was never supposed to happen. She had always expected things between them to come to a dead end as soon as he realized she couldn't force herself to have feelings for him.

"This isn't happening, this is a dream…"

She's in a haze, until he jolts her out of it, saying "Will you marry me?"

Her breath catches in her throat.

Ken is caring, and sweet and holds many of the qualities that women look for in a husband. He is not without his faults, however, she thinks to herself, and fleetingly wonders if he even bothered to shower this morning. The nervous sweat accumulating on his brow makes her own contort into a look of discomfort.

Ken is a good man, but he is not who she needs.

She sees someone walk into the empty room in her peripheral vision, and she focuses her attention away from Ken for a moment. Anything to temporarily escape from her own personal hell unfolding before her eyes. She blinks, trying to clear her blurred vision. Standing in the doorway, she sees the man that is quite literally everything she wants and needs. A look of shock is on his face.

Will.

She can't do this. She can't marry the man who is so obviously the perfect mismatch for her. The sight leaves Will with a plethora of unwelcome emotions coursing through his body. His heart pounds in his ears. The sound deafens him.

When their gazes catch from across the room, the moment seems to stand still. Movement stops and in one quickly passed minute they have a wordless conversation.

Through their tense stare, they both know that neither of them is with the person they truly want to be with.

He can't stand to watch the sight before him; he doesn't want to see what she'll say or how she'll handle it. His flustered mind doesn't let the thought that she probably won't say yes occur to him. The only thing he can think of is that he isn't able to stand idly by and watch her agree to marry someone she doesn't belong with.

And briefly, he believes that she doesn't belong with anyone that isn't him.

The realization, however fleeting it may be, sends a shock through his body and he quickly turns and walks down the hallway. He mentally berates himself for his thoughts. He makes his way to the nurse's office, seeing his wife sitting at the desk, fidgeting with her shirt. He stares for a moment, willing the affection he's always felt for her to course through him and prove to him that his feelings for Emma are purely platonic.

As he peers through the glass of her office door, he sees her talking to Quinn Fabray, who wipes gently at her eyes and rests a hand on her stomach. His heart clenches for the poor, lost girl who so obviously needs someone to open up to. He begins to pace in the hallway, waiting for their meeting to be over so he can see his wife. He doesn't mean to catch pieces of their conversation, but he can't help but listen slightly when he catches the desperate tone of his student.

"I just want my baby to have a good family." She says shakily, "I can't give him or her what they need."

"Don't worry," he hears his wife reply soothingly, "It's all going to be fine."

Will frowns slightly, leaning himself against the wall by the door and wondering how he could possibly make Quinn's life at least a bit easier. The muffled conversation from inside the next room continues; for a moment he thinks that he should probably tear himself away and give them their privacy, but what Quinn says next has his brow furrowing.

"Please promise me something… just make sure my baby is happy."

There's a pause, and in the silence Will finds himself completely lost in confusion. He can't think of a reason why Terri would be responsible for the happiness of Quinn's child. Terri murmurs something that he can't make out and he leans just slightly closer to the door, feeling guilty only until Quinn speaks once more.

"I don't want Mr. Schuester to ever find out about this."

He freezes at the mention of his name, his head swimming. When realization finally hits him, he shakes his head and thinks it can't be possible. But he considers the recent behavior of his wife: her refusal to let him touch her anywhere but her face or arms, the fact that he hasn't been to a single doctor's appointment with her, her overly nervous and erratic behavior…

Has she been lying to him?

He begins to pace again, his eyes wandering aimlessly around the hallway, unable to focus on anything. His breath is shallow and quick paced and he feels the sudden need to be anywhere but in that school. He makes his way down the hallway, nearly stumbling in his baffled state. Tears pool in his eyes and he wipes at them angrily, willing his emotions to stay under his control.

As he makes his way outside, pushing the door open dramatically, he doesn't see Emma as she watches his irate movements before he gets into his battered car and speeds out of the parking lot.

She notices his livid condition: the tears threatening to spill over his eyes, the way his jaw is set taut and how his hands curl into fists as he walks out the door. Shocked, as she's never seen him this way, she stands motionless for a moment. She wakes herself from her reverie just as he drives out of sight. Wondering what could have him so incredibly upset, she decides that maybe he shouldn't be alone, or that he'll need someone to talk him down. So she rushes to her own vehicle and leaves for his apartment, hoping that's where he's headed.

When she reaches the parking lot of his apartment complex, she sighs with relief as she spots his car parked not too far away. She thinks to herself that this is probably a mistake and that whatever issues he's going through will blow over soon enough. Ignoring the thought, she quickly makes her way into the building, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable for having followed him to his home. She wills the feeling to go away; she needs to make sure that Will is alright.

She arrives at his door and knocks lightly. She waits a moment, not getting a response. Soon, a noise reverberates through the silence in the hallway, something she assumes to be the slamming of a door. Bracing herself, she turns the doorknob and takes a step into his apartment.

Meanwhile, Will rushes to his and Terri's bedroom. He stares around the room, contemplating his next actions until he charges to her dresser and begins to rummage through her drawers for some type of evidence. He needs anything to prove his seemingly insane suspicion wrong. He sees nothing but her usual lingerie, but his fingers brush against something unrecognizable in the depths of the drawer. He pulls it out, taking a breath in order to brace himself. He stares at the object with a lost look on his face; it's a considerable size and stuffed with cotton, and he momentarily has no idea what its use is.

He stares at it, confused, for a long moment. When it finally dawns on him, he has to tighten his grip around the offensive item to keep his shaking hands from dropping it. He staggers backwards, not before roughly slamming the drawer closed, and walks back to the hallway. He stands there aimlessly, glaring at the piece of fabric in his hold. He wants to believe that it is anything but proof that his wife has made up an entire story about a pregnancy. But on some level, he knows that underneath her clothing, Terri has been concealing an imitation of a baby bump from him. The realization hits him like a direct blow to the gut and he struggles to not double over in pain.

The family that he thought he was going to have was a lie. All those nights that he's spent awake worrying about his knowledge of parenthood, or dreaming of his baby in his arms for the first time, have been a complete waste. He isn't going to be a father.

Tears sting his eyelids and a painful lump forms in his throat. His eyes shut tightly and every muscle in his body is rigid. He can't find it in himself to move. As he continues to stand in the hallway, his mind a fog of every kind of emotion, he vaguely hears a door open and woman's voice calling out to him from the other end of his apartment. Startled, he shakes his head, attempting in vain to clear it.

"Will?" says the voice again. The tentativeness laced in the soft tone tells him that it's Emma.

"Here." He calls out, unable to say anything more. Thankfully, she follows his voice well enough to find him. Their eyes meet and she gives him a sympathetic look.

"I saw you leave school," she whispers, stepping slightly closer to him. Her proximity gives him an odd mixture of comfort and unease. "you looked…" she pauses, unsure of her wording and takes a different approach. "I was worried. Are you okay?"

He knows that a simple "no" won't suffice, so he clears his throat, fighting back the anger rising from the depths of his chest and holds up his hand, showing her the pad. She stares at it with a furrowed brow and then looks at him questioningly.

"Terri…" he breathes, his voice shaking as he attempts to control it, "she's been lying to me the entire time."

"Will, I don't-"

"She's not pregnant." He interrupts, needing to voice it. She whispers his name once more, her voice thick with shock and compassion. Nervously, she reaches out to let her hand meet his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm so sorry…" she murmurs, sincerity in her words. His free hand covers hers, resting gently on his tense shoulder. His warm palm brushes against her fingers and she mentally berates herself for feeling a slight spark of electricity from his touch in such a painful moment.

"Thanks, Em." He says, giving her a small, solemn smile. "I think I need to be alone for a bit, if that's alright."

She nods, biting her bottom lip nervously and feeling slightly useless. But she knows that the only way that she can help him right now is to give him time to sort through his thoughts.

"Okay," she says after a momentary silence, "um… call me, if you need anything."

He agrees and mumbles another thank you before she turns to leave.

"Hey, Emma." He calls out before she's able to leave. She turns toward him, giving him a look of acknowledgement. "Ken… did he really ask you to marry him?"

She attempts to put a small smile on her face, not wanting to convey to him just how much the answer to his question frightens her. There's no spark of happiness in her eyes; she ducks her head to avoid his intense, pleading gaze.

"Yeah," she mumbles, nearly incoherent. "Yeah, he did."

Will can't avoid the wave of dread that washes over him. His mind is in too large of a haze for him to pay note to the fact that he shouldn't be feeling twinges of jealousy burning in his chest. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing loudly.

"What are you going to do?" he says softly after a painful silence, his voice breaking just slightly.

She's speechless, staring at him for a while; he can almost feel her large eyes boring into him with the vehemence of her look. She's wordlessly pleading with him to give her a reason to say no to Ken. Will is the only incentive she needs.

"I don't know, Will…" she says finally, then turns on her heel and quickly leaves before he can say anything else.

As he hears the sound of the door closing, he stares once more at the life-altering pad in his hand. Finally unable to control his emotions, he lets his anger bubble to the surface and throws the piece against the wall facing him. It makes an indistinct noise as it hits. Unsatisfied with the result of his outburst, Will finally lets the tears he's been fighting spill onto his cheeks, running down his tired face. As he takes in shuddering breaths, his limbs are no longer able to find the strength to keep him upright. His back hits the wall behind him and he slowly slides down to the floor, sitting himself roughly on the hard surface.

He buries his face in his hands and gives into the sobs racking his body. The pain of losing the child he never had and the marriage he no longer believes in is almost too much for him to handle. He sits there, on the floor in the middle of his apartment, mourning the loss of what he knew as his family.

And hidden in the back of his mind, he knows he's grieving what feels like the loss of someone else too.

He sits there, feeling his life crumble beneath him, for quite some time. When he finally finds the strength to control his emotions and pick himself up off the floor, he hears the door opening again. He runs a hand down his tired face, ridding it of remnants of tears. He swallows, hoping his voice won't betray his conviction, picks up Terri's fake baby bump and makes his way to the entryway of their apartment.

"Will," says Terri as he walks into her line of sight, her voice slightly alarmed. "I thought you had Glee rehearsal today. Figgins told me you disappeared before your afternoon classes."

"Yeah…" he mumbles, standing a distance away from her as he's sure he wouldn't be able to be near her. "Terri, is there something you need to tell me?"

She looks at him impatiently, rolling her eyes as she makes her way into the apartment, carelessly throwing her jacket onto the couch and sighing loudly.

"What are you talking about, Will? I've had a long day." She says, exaggerated aggravation in her voice.

"I overheard you talking to Quinn Fabray today." He says simply, his voice somehow managing to keep steady. He feels like he could begin screaming at any moment; a few choice words are burning at the back of his throat, begging to be released. He wants to give her a chance to explain before he lets the fury inside of him take over.

Her eyes widen at his statement and she's dumbfounded; her mouth falls open but remains silent. He utters her name insistently, waiting for her to say something. When she doesn't, he shakes his head, letting out a shaky breath and shutting his eyes tightly. He thrusts the item in his hand into her hold, focusing his attention away from her for a moment because he can no longer bear to continue looking at her.

"What is that?" he says finally, watching as she stares down at her hands and her body begins to tremble slightly.

"It's, um…" she trails off, not finding words or a plausible explanation, still unable to look him in the eye.

"Terri!" he shouts, making her flinch and finally meet his fervent gaze. "Just tell me the truth." Each word is punctuated and emphasized.

"I'm so sorry, Will." She whispers, her breath hitching as tears begin to form in her eyes. "I never meant for this to happen…" She trails off.

He looks at her insistently, silently telling her to elaborate. He purses his lips and shakes his head, not believing how far his life has fallen in the space of one day.

"I've been lying to you." She whimpers, her voice so tiny that she's barely understandable. "I'm not pregnant."

To hear the words come directly from her mouth knocks the wind out of him. Shaking his head and blinking back the sudden need to cry, he steps away and turns his back to her. She collapses onto the couch and he faces her again, her body looking deflated in her despaired shape.

"I just… felt you slipping away." She says, lifting her shirt and pulling away the pad around her stomach. The velcro makes an offensive noise as it detaches itself and she throws it on the coffee table in front of her. Will feels himself tense even more at the sight and she continues. "Quinn was just… convenient. I did the only thing I could think of that would keep you here, with me."

"I loved you, Terri. That kept me here."

"I think you love your job more, Will." She sighs, sniffling. He steps closer to her, leaning down as he reaches near, their faces level.

"I can't believe this… how I feel about _my job_, Terri, has nothing to do with what you've done to our marriage!" He shouts, making her flinch with every word.

"What about the way you feel about that redhead you're constantly with? I saw you with her. You can't tell me you don't see the way she looks at you." she retorts.

He scoffs, cursing thoroughly under his breath, and walks away from her. She follows quickly behind, desperately grabbing his wrist as he picks up his keys. He finally looks at her and truly feels numb at the sight.

"Don't leave, please." She cries, the despair in her tone doing nothing to coax him. "Will, we can make this work."

"I can't." he says, roughly pulling his arm from her grip and slamming the door behind him as he leaves.

He sleeps in his car that night, hidden in the depths of the McKinley's parking lot. He only manages to keep his eyes closed for a couple of hours at the most, his head spinning with the magnitude of recent events. He awakens when the sun begins to rise, bright rays beaming onto his face through his car's window. Groaning, he wipes the sleep from his eyes and tries to ignore the pounding in his head. He notes the time (barely 6am) and decides that sitting in his uncomfortable seat any longer is useless. He steps out of the car and makes his way into the school, stretching and hoping to somehow get the painful kinks out of his neck muscles.

Only when he gets to his office does he realize that he's wearing the same clothing as the day before. Sighing, he studies himself and then sheds his tie and vest, hoping no one will notice he hasn't changed. He throws himself into his lesson plans for the day, willing thoughts of the previous night's events to evade him.

It isn't long before McKinley begins to fill with students and faculty; he hides in his classroom to avoid having to plaster on a fake smile right away. He makes it through his morning classes, letting his students work individually because he doesn't think he can handle lecturing. When his free period comes, he decides to brave the teacher's lounge. He barely has the time to step from his classroom before someone calls out to him. He recognizes the voice instantly, however, and turns with a small, genuine smile on his face.

"Emma." He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear. Maybe she's his one hope to brighten his day.

She walks up to him, uncertainty in her movements. She ducks her head as she reaches him, standing close enough for him to reach out and touch her. He fights the urge to brush his fingers down the length her arm: just to know that she's there.

"I wanted you to hear this from me…" she stammers, her wide eyes darting between him and the floor. Her hands rest folded in front of her, a nervous habit. "You know, um, Ken asked me to marry him."

Will nods, feeling a pang in his heart as she speaks. He's silent, not trusting himself to speak.

"I said no." She murmurs.

Something akin to relief washes over him, but he doesn't know what to say. He asks himself how to react to someone who's refused a marriage that would so obviously never work. The words _I'm sorry_ hardly seem appropriate. He can't exactly tell her how great he thinks it is, or that he's proud of her for asserting herself. Thankfully, when he merely nods, she continues.

"I just- I couldn't do it, Will. I couldn't marry him because I could never love him." She pauses, sighing and pursing her lips for a moment. "And… I think we both deserve more than that."

"Emma-"

"I could never have given him my heart," she interjects before he can speak anymore, afraid that she'll lose her nerve soon. "Not when someone else has it."

A rush of shock runs through him; his throat runs dry and he swallows thickly. She stares at his adam's apple as it follows the movement, needing to look at anything but the reaction on his face.

"Who?" He breathes. Their gazes lock, intensity laced in their stare. The air in his lungs seems to leave him all at once, and her breath hitches in her throat. She gives him a knowing look, but his own is insistent. He has his intuition, but he needs to hear the words come from her mouth.

"I think you know, Will." She says with certainty.

She doesn't give him a chance to respond. She can't bear to see him react to the impact of her words. Finding herself more afraid of what he may say than it remaining unknown, she turns and walks away from him.

Still stunned into silence, he simply watches her retreating form. His mouth falls slightly open, as if to prepare him to say something, but she doesn't see his hesitance. Defeated, he makes his way down the opposite end of the hallway, his shoes scuffing against the floor with his reluctant steps.

As he reaches the corridor, he feels a sudden magnetism that pulls him to look over in her direction again.

She's frozen in place, staring at him forlornly, feeling a fire in the heart that's beating rapidly in her chest.

The look in her eyes and the ardor coursing through his veins makes him want to go to her, wrap his arms gently around her waist and tell her that he's decided he's getting a divorce.

And even more, he wants to tell her that, at a moment he can't pinpoint, his heart became hers, too.

**Well, that's chapter 1! I have this entire story outlined, so chapter 2 should be along as soon as possible. **

**Giant thank you to Natalie for being my super patient and amazing editor, and to Becky for being equally patient and amazing while we talked about it. This one is for both of you! Shout out to my girls on Twitter for being constantly awesome and probably dirtier than need be… I wouldn't have it any other way!**

**Let me know what you think!**


	2. Broken

**Hello again! So sorry for the long wait… I'm a busy bee. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the first chapter, it's very much appreciated! If I could hug every last one of you, I would. Becky, this one is for you…. You'll know.**

**Enjoy!**

"I filed for divorce."

He says it without warning one day, sitting in Emma's office in the chair across from her desk, as if he can't hold it in any longer.

"Will." She can only manage to say, alarm in her voice, before her mind fails her intention to find words. She stares blankly at him for a moment. She blinks, and tries to read the empty expression on his face. "When?" she utters.

"I met with a lawyer a few days ago… nothing is official yet, but I'm done with Terri. I just… couldn't look passed what she did."

"I'm so sorry." She murmurs, truth to what she's saying, despite how much time she's spent waiting for some form of these words to come from his mouth. Her mouth remains open, but she can't find anymore words.

He nods silently, ducking his head and letting out a deep sigh. "Don't be, Em." he says finally, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "This is good." His gaze rises to meet hers then and he finds a smile tugging at his lips. His stare is so insistent, so full of an emotion she can't quite indentify that she feels her skin begin to burn with the intensity. "This could be really good." He adds with emphasis.

His tone and the possible meaning of his words hang in the air like a tentative promise. The way he looks at her has her unnerved. She wonders if he meant the words to come out the way she took them, and if he felt the same rush that flooded her veins when their gazes locked.

She ducks her head, feeling her cheeks flush. She mentally berates herself for thinking that Will and his wife separating, and imminently getting divorced, could actually be a good thing. But she can't hold back the thoughts of what could be, now that he's no longer tied down. She clears her throat, willing her wishes to bury themselves in the back of her mind, and decides to change the subject.

"So, um… any plans for this weekend?" She stammers. A neutral topic is good, she thinks. Maybe it'll stop her from thinking of his lips on hers every time they curl into that crooked smile she loves so much.

He releases a breathless, almost bitter, laugh and scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. Thanksgiving falls on the long weekend ahead of them; she hadn't thought of how it might be odd for him to talk about his first holiday without his wife.

"Oh Will, I'm sor-"

"No, Emma, it's okay." He interjects gently, attempting a smile, "I was supposed to have dinner with my parents, but they decided to go out of town… So, it looks like I'll be having Chinese take out for Thanksgiving dinner."

She stares at him sadly and he diverts his eyes to the wall, unable to stand her pitiful gaze. He sighs loudly and dramatically and she feels her heart break for him for what feels like the millionth time over the last couple of weeks.

"My family decided it's my turn to have everyone over for dinner this year," she says finally, sounding unenthused but then her tone lightens as she smiles at him, "you should come."

"Emma, I can't do that." He says insistently.

"I don't want you to be alone." She murmurs, giving him a look that dares him to continue to argue, and the uncertainty in his eyes softens. Her next words cause nerves to manifest in her stomach and she nervously bites her lip. "And I want you to be there."

"Emma…" He repeats, preparing himself to argue that he doesn't want to intrude on her time with her family, but she quickly interrupts him again.

"Will." She mimics, her tone mocking. He cracks a smile and she chuckles. The moment passes and he notices the playful glint in her eye as she says, "Just come. For me?"

He's taken back to a memory in the not-too distant past, when he had been willing to give up the job that he loves for a family that is now merely lies and ruins. She had said those very same words to him and, later, sat across from him as he relived the happiest moment of his life from her laptop's screen. She had given him much more than career advice that day.

"Alright." He finally agrees, his voice a vehement whisper.

He knocks on her door a couple of nights later, awkwardly adjusting his tie and biting back his nerves. He's never had anxiety about meeting new people; but for some reason, the thought of spending the evening with Emma and her family causes his head to spin a little bit. He swallows, taking a deep breath, before the door opens and Emma stands before him.

The grin she has on is radiant, and he can't help but notice the way the dress she's wearing fits her perfectly. His lips hang widely parted for a minute before he can remind himself to smile back at her. They exchange a warm greeting as Will walks in and hands her the bottle of white wine he brought for the occasion. He had contemplated getting her flowers as a thank you for the invitation, knowing how she admired them, but he dismissed the idea quickly after realizing the message that would send.

She leads him into the apartment and he immediately notices how it complements her character. Even more, as his gaze sweeps over her, he sees how differently she carries herself here than at work. He can't exactly pinpoint what's changed, but she seems more… comfortable. Relaxed. He quickly finds himself feeling the same way.

Will is promptly introduced to her family: her parents and her brother, Nathan, his wife, and their baby daughter. The pang in his chest can't be helped when he sees the latter, but he wills away the painful sting to his recent wounds. He politely shakes everyone's hand and playfully winks at Emma's flushed face when her mother exclaims, "so _you're _the Will we keep hearing about?"

He excuses himself from the table as the conversation after dinner begins to wind down, deciding to give Emma and her family a little time to themselves. Unseen, he walks to the living room and stands there aimlessly for a moment. He smiles as he takes in the décor of the pristine room. His thoughts are interrupted when he feels an odd tug at his pant leg. He looks down to find Emma's tiny niece staring back at him, an adorable baby grin on her one year old face.

"Up!" she squeals, holding her chubby hands above her head. He chuckles and can't resist a smile as he complies with her wishes, settling her comfortably in his arms. He walks to the nearby couch and takes a seat, his heart melting as she grabs a tiny fistful of his shirt and nestles into his hold. Soon, she's yawning and her eyes begin to close as she falls asleep.

He stares down at her, sighing somberly and wondering how it would have felt to hold a little girl of his own. A few minutes pass as he sits there silently, holding the child and wishing the twinge in his heart would fade. Soon, he hears footsteps approaching and Emma walks into the room, spotting him on the couch.

Slowly, she makes her way over to him, feeling her heart break as she sees the slightly forlorn look on his face. She bites her lips as he meets her gaze awkwardly.

"We were wondering where you two went." She says finally, standing directly in front of him and looking down at her niece in his arms. She beams as she notices how snug the baby looks in his hold. "I'll tell Nathan she's here." She quickly excuses herself as Will nods, and comes back a moment later with her brother behind her.

Nathan's brow arches in mild surprise as he sees Will.

"Wow, she must like you." Nathan chuckles, taking the baby as Will stands and approaches him. He shrugs as Nathan carefully takes his daughter, not wanting to wake her.

"Sorry about that, she insisted I pick her up and then she fell right to sleep." He says softly.

"You must be a natural…" Nathan grins, "Have any of your own?"

Will's frantic gaze meets Emma's fleetingly before he quickly stares at the floor, willing the air to return to his lungs. He clears his throat of the slight lump that's lodged itself there.

"I-um.. no, I don't." he mumbles.

Nathan then turns to Emma, telling her that he and the rest of her guests will be leaving any moment. She nods silently and he walks out of the room.

She looks over at Will, still averting his gaze from her and whispers, "Stay here… I'll be right back."

He can vaguely hear her bid goodbye to her family as they thank her for dinner and tell her they'll see each other soon. He sinks to the couch again, bracing his elbows against his knees and burying his face in his shaking hands. He doesn't notice when she makes her way over to him and takes a seat.

"I'm so sorry for that…" she murmurs.

"Next Thanksgiving, I would have had my own daughter or son with me. My own family." He finally gathers himself enough to meet her persistent gaze; the look in his eyes is enough to make her desperate to take away the turmoil he's feeling.

"I know." She mouths, reaching over slightly. In an uncharacteristic move, she gently uncurls the fist he has laying nearest her and entwines their fingers.

The warmth of her palm and the soft feel of her thumb against his knuckles send soothing waves washing over him, but tears begin to pool in his eyes regardless. He coughs uneasily and shakes his head.

"No," he grumbles, his voice hoarse. "How can I be so… upset over something that was never real?"

Even in the dark lit room, she sees the lone tear that cascades down his face, and she squeezes his hand just a little tighter.

"Will." She says insistently, "To you, that baby was real."

A couple of weeks later, he walks into her office, just as he does every other day. This time, though, there's a gleam in his eyes that she's rarely seen recently. However, there's a sheepish manner to the way he's carrying himself, as if he's uncertain about something. He sits across from her wordlessly and grins at her. She can't help but smile back at the warm gesture.

"Hi…" he says finally, softness in his tone.

"Hi, Will."

"So, I have something to ask you…" He mumbles, quickly running a hand through his curly hair. She nods, urging him to continue. "Figgins asked me to chaperone the Christmas dance. There's a few chaperones, but we're still short some people…"

She has a feeling she knows where this is going. The idea of spending her Friday night in a gym full of rowdy, dancing teenagers is less than appealing. But the way he smirks that lopsided grin of his as she looks at him knowingly has her already willing.

"I was thinking if you came along… it might make the ordeal a little more bearable." He chuckles and she joins in.

"Okay, Will. I'd be glad to help."

The bell rings then, and Will quickly rises from his seat, muttering something about being late for Spanish class.

"Hey Emma," He turns as he opens the door and she looks up from the paperwork on her desk. "Maybe we could share a dance."

He winks and closes the door behind him as he leaves. She's left with her heart in her throat and her mouth hanging open in silence.

Friday comes faster than expected; Will picks up Emma at her condo a few hours after school, claiming it's the least he could do for getting her into chaperoning. As she opens the door to greet him, he feels the air in his lungs fleetingly leave him. The dress she's wearing, while still professional, hugs the delicate curves of her body amazingly. The dark color is not her usual style, but it contrasts her porcelain skin perfectly. For a moment he can't even take his eyes off her.

"You look… wow." He whispers and she blushes profusely.

They soon make their way to his old car. Surprising him and even herself, she has no trouble climbing in, after she quickly wipes down the seat, of course. They ride in content silence on their way to McKinley, Will humming quietly in time with the radio. She takes comfort in simply listening to him.

"William, Miss Pillsbury!" Figgins exclaims as soon as they walk into the school, "glad you're here. We're short staffed tonight, you know, and there's been much gallivanting already. William, I think you should keep an eye on the hallways… students have been escaping the gymnasium and letting their hormones get the best of them, I'm afraid." He coughs uncomfortably.

Will rolls his eyes at the idea of McKinley's teens leaving the dance to make out in some hidden corner of the school. He hesitantly agrees anyway, wanting to argue but knowing Figgins wouldn't be bothered by his reluctance. Next to him, Emma eyes the crowd of kids apprehensively as most of them dance in a way that makes Will grimace. He spots some of his Glee clubbers standing not to far away, laughing amongst themselves, and he smiles.

When Emma's eyes meet his, he instantly feels guilty for bringing her here. There's a fear in them that tells him she would rather do anything than find herself in that crowd of sweating, rowdy teens. Before Will can apologize and offer to take her home, Figgins ushers her away with a hand to her upper back and mumbles something about helping him supervise the dance floor.

Sighing, Will begins to walks down the hallways of the school, thinking this night is going nothing like he wanted it to. He hears the soft guitar strains of a slow, romantic song begin to play in the distance and can't help but think about pulling Emma into his arms for a few stolen minutes.

A couple of agonizing hours later, students begin to leave the school and Will catches Emma's eye as he makes his way into the gym. She briskly walks over to him, and if he wasn't so worried about her, he'd chuckle at her eagerness.

"Ready to go?" he says unnecessarily as she reaches him. She turns and eyes the nearly empty room with mild disgust.

"Definitely." She shudders. He breathes a laugh, putting an arm around her shoulder in a casual gesture of support. He draws her closer for a second, giving her an odd half-hug, and drops his arm. She can't help but feel slightly cold when his hand leaves the skin of her arm.

When they reach her apartment, she eyes the clock on his dashboard and notices that it's still fairly early in the evening. Gathering her nerve, she shifts her gaze to Will, who's looking at her timid face with a furrowed brow.

"I could use a tea after all that… would you like one?"

He beams at her, nods, and steps from the car. She takes off her shoes as they enter her apartment and he follows. As she begins to busy herself around the kitchen, he stands with his hands in his pockets, watching her silently for a moment.

"Anything I can do?" he offers politely.

"Um," she bites her lip as she fills a kettle with water, making him grin at the habit he rarely sees. "There's a radio in the next room, how about some music?"

He nods, quickly finding the stereo that sits above her TV in the living room. He turns it on and finds a soft rock station, adjusting the volume before returning to the kitchen. She sets the kettle on the stove and turns on the burner.

She turns around to find his arm stretched out toward her, his hand is open in an offer for her to take it. There's a warm smile on his face and a tender look in his gaze. She freezes, glancing up at him questioningly.

"Dance with me." He breathes, and suddenly, she finds herself powerless to him.

Her hand slips into his and he presses them against his chest, while his other comes to rest gently on her waist. She can feel the rhythmic beat of his heart against her palm. Gentle music plays softly from the next room and her cloudy mind manages to recognize the song as an overplayed Lifehouse piece. As the lyrics speak of being so broken, and so hurt that you can barely breathe, Emma sighs deeply.

"This song is sad…" she murmurs, impulsively letting her head rest on his shoulder. For a second she thinks that she can't believe she's standing there, dancing in her kitchen with him.

Her breath begins to run across the sensitive skin of his neck, and he can't help but tense slightly at the feeling. He hopes she doesn't feel the shudder that runs down his spine.

"Sometimes the sad ones are the best." Both of them know they're talking about something entirely different than music. His arm wraps around her a little tighter, pulling her close.

She hums, whether in approval of his actions or in time with the vocals of the song, he doesn't know. The burning in his chest and his pulse swarming through his veins begins to make his head spin. He leans a little closer to her, his mouth a breath away from her ear.

"_In the pain, there is healing. In your name, I find meaning_…" he croons in time with the radio. He takes his hand from her waist, cupping her cheek and gently angling her gaze to meet his.

The fervor in his eyes nearly causes her to lose balance, but she composes herself long enough to whisper his name with a mildly perplexed tone.

His expression is an odd mixture of determination and adoration as he stares down at her wordlessly for a moment. Her lips part as she tries desperately to think of something to say: something that will ease the alarm in her body that's screaming at his proximity and the way his body sways with hers. His eyes dart away and focus on her mouth before he begins to lean closer.

His lips are painfully close to hers when she finally realizes what's happening. She can feel his warm breath starting to mingle with hers, and she's truly felt nothing more magnetizing in her life. Her entire body is calling out for her to close the gap between them and finally give into the unbelievable way she feels for him.

But just as his lips faintly graze against hers, not enough to even be considered a kiss, she freezes. Her conscious is flaring, burning in the pit of her stomach, and telling her this isn't right.

"Will…" she breathes. She doesn't attempt to pull away from him, but the way she utters his name makes him pause before he can get any further. "We can't. You're… you're still married."

He wants to argue; he wants to tell her he stopped being married the second Terri admitted she had been lying. But on some level, beneath all his impulses and longing to be close to her, he knows she's right. He has yet to sign documents that would officially declare him a free man.

But his need to just give in and kiss her is almost surpassing his need to breathe.

He almost begins to ignore her argument and lean in again, but she whispers to him once more, slightly more forceful this time. Her voice sounds like a plea, because she couldn't stand to kiss him and know that he still belongs to someone else.

His eyes close tightly and his forehead falls from hers in defeat, grazing the bridge of her nose. His rests near her lips and he could swear he feels her peck the end of it lightly. He shudders, releasing a shaky breath as she does the same.

The kettle behind them whistles offensively, the high-pitched noise cutting through the tension between them.

"I'm sorry, Emma." He says, tearing himself away from her and averting his gaze. "I just…"

He trails off, not finishing the thought because he truly doesn't know what to say. He can't exactly say _I couldn't help myself,_ or_ I can't control the way I feel about you… _or even,_ I think I'm falling in love with you._ No, instead he just keeps his mouth shut and finds discomfort in her same momentary silence. When it's clear to her that he has nothing else to say, she turns and tends to the stove.

"I'll, um…" he curses himself for being unable to come up with words. "I think I'm just going to go, Em."

She faces him instantly, her doe eyes boring into his guilty ones. She shakes her head and her stare silently pleads with him to stay. He wants nothing more than to go along with her wishes but his lips continue to ache to feel hers, and all at once he doesn't think he can trust his mind to ignore his impulses.

"Will." She murmurs as he makes his way to her door, desolation in her tone. "Don't…"

He opens the door anyway, after quickly and clumsily slipping on his shoes, and makes a failed attempt to smile at her reassuringly.

"I'll see you Monday."

And then he's gone.

**Well, there's chapter 2! It appears I have a thing for angst, don't I? By the way, in case some of you were wondering, the song playing as they dance is Broken by Lifehouse. There will be one or two more chapters to this story. I'll try hard to update faster this time! Anyway, I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!**


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